


Pharmakon

by the_interuniversal_geometer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disordered Eating, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Potions, Snape gets redeemed kicking and screaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_interuniversal_geometer/pseuds/the_interuniversal_geometer
Summary: Harry is just a boy who loves potions. Snape is just a man who hates Harry.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Appreciation





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Pureblood Pretense](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/39096) by murkybluematter. 



> Sometimes the poison is the cure.
> 
> Inspired by the Rigel Black Chronicles by murkybluematter, which is infinitely better than this story, though that doesn’t need to be read in order to understand this fic. I’m just enamored of the idea of a Harry who loves potions, and since there are precious few of those fics I decided to write my own (with a little encouragement from the Harry Get Some Sleep discord server).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tania for betaing this chapter! The next chapter will be up next week.

Harry had known he was different, even from a young age. 

He found solace in the library, where a young witch took him under her wing and, upon recognizing him as the famous Harry Potter, gave him access to all the magical books she had on hand. As it happened, all of the magical books that she possessed were potions textbooks and the occasional potions journal. 

He became obsessed with potions, as they were his only escape from the Dursleys. When he arrived at Hogwarts, having basically memorized a bunch of textbooks, what he wanted above anything was to be in the same house as the world renowned potions master, Severus Snape.

During Harry’s first potions class, he couldn’t contain his excitement. He would get to study under _Master Snape._ When he made his way into class he took a seat towards the front of the room. He wanted to be able to see the board but more than that, he wanted to be closer to the professor. When Snape asked him where he could find various potions ingredients Harry was proud of his knowledge, proud that he might be able to impress the professor with his potions knowledge.

When Harry answered all of Snape’s questions, though, Snape remarked that nobody liked a showoff, that if _famous Harry Potter_ thought himself better than the rest of them then he could make his own potions, without a partner. 

Snape hated Harry, even more so because Harry seemed to excel in potions. Snape gave Harry separate assignments, different potions from the rest of the class, continually testing him in order to one day trip him up, and be able to take revenge for Harry’s perceived slight of doing too well.

Harry didn’t have any positive influences from adults in his life so Snape's dismissal and hatred? Pretty par for the course. Harry saw Snape's tests as Snape trying to see if Harry would be able to prove himself, while Snape saw them as a way to make it so that he can punish Harry when he failed, because eventually he _would_ fail.

Snape had Harry making polyjuice potion while the rest of the first years were making boil cures. But Harry? He just kept reading potions books and succeeding.

All his free time was consumed with reading potions books, because for the first time in his life, he had access to more potions books, so he didn't have any friends. Harry was studying potions to the detriment of all his other subjects. Studying was difficult for him. It didn’t come naturally, not the least because he was punished for doing better than Dudley in school. Nonetheless, he _wanted_ to learn. More than anything. So he studied for potions and not for his other classes.

Harry did very well in potions and exceptionally poorly in his other classes, skipping meals to study because he knew how to go without food, of course.

Snape was ignorant to all of this, naturally—his heart and mind were set on tearing Harry down and punishing the son of his old school bully for daring to do well in the subject that he taught.

Of course, Snape one day came up with a test that tripped Harry up. Harry had never even seen a cauldron before Hagrid took him to Diagon alley and memorization could only get him so far. Snape had him making the antidote to Nimue’s Breath, itself a tricky poison that could convince the drinker to take it because it disguised itself as whatever the drinker wanted to imbibe the most.

Harry got tripped up. He failed to make the potion, and the cauldron exploded, and Snape thought _finally._

He smiled and gave Harry detention, relishing the pain the boy was in before sending him to the hospital wing for an antidote. He got to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey? Kept him for the whole rest of the day. She didn’t let him leave because Harry had lost weight since he's been at Hogwarts and looked like he was about to faint.

Night fell and Snape noticed that Harry was not back to the dorms because of course Snape wanted to gloat and he was robbed of his chance to do so. He thought that Harry was probably out after dark, up to mischief and no good. When he sent some prefects out to look for the boy, they came back and told him that Harry was still in the hospital wing.

He sneered and said that if Madam Pomfrey didn’t have the antidote then he could find one and he would just have to bring it there himself. He took the potion and took the floo to the hospital wing. When he got there he saw Harry lying in the bed, looking smaller than he did when he was awake, with not a mark on him.

Snape called for Madam Pomfrey. "What is the boy still doing here? He should be back in the dormitories by now!"

Madam Pomfrey rounded on him, furious. "Have you _any idea_ what's been going on with this poor boy? He's half-starved and you send him to me with burns that I _know_ you could have healed with a single potion?"

"It's none of my business what the brat eats,” Snape said. “If he chooses to forgo meals so that he can play Exploding Snap then that's his prerogative. He should be spending his time studying. The mistake he made that landed him in the hospital wing was easily avoidable and entirely his fault for making."

" _Severus Snape,_ I know exactly what kind of burns result from brewing the Child's Game potion that your first years were making and this _was not it_ ,” Madam Pomfrey said. “What in the world did you have him making?"

Snape paused because _what potion_ was _Potter making?_ "He was making the antidote to Nimue's Breath," he told her.

"That is a _fifth year potion_ ," she said, coldly. "What possible reason could you have had for telling him to make that?"

"He wanted to prove himself capable of making advanced potions," Snape said, "and I gave him the chance to do so. His failure is entirely his own fault as he was incapable of following even the simplest of instructions."

"You knew very well that he would be unable to make that potion," she accused. "I remember that _you_ couldn't make that potion on your first or even sixth try. This wasn't a challenge but a punishment and I'll not have you punish the poor boy."

"Why would I be punishing the brat?" Snape dismissed. "I care nothing for the boy. What reason would I have to create elaborate schemes only for the sake of what is? Failing the boy at potions?"

" _I know you Severus._ You would do exactly that for the sake of punishing your old school rival's son. You forget, though. He was Lily's son, too, and you spit on her memory by treating the boy as such. He's not his father and even if he were I'd not let this continue. This ends today."

Snape sputtered, "The boy _wanted_ to prove himself in potions," but Poppy looked down her nose at him.

"No one _wants_ to prove themselves like this, to a man like you. Not when you treat them like you do Harry. If I hear of any extra potions ‘lessons’ happening again, I will be extremely cross with you."

Snape left, head held high, and spared one final glance to the too-small boy in the hospital bed. He felt a pang of something and told himself that it was righteousness, but he wasn’t quite sure if he believed that.

The following evening Harry showed up at his office. "What do you want?" Snape demanded.

"I'm here for my detention? Sir?" Harry said hesitantly.

"....Hm. Come in," Snape said. "Today you will be listing every potion ingredient that you know and its uses. I have provided parchment and ink."

"I—are you sure, sir?" Harry asked. "That doesn't sound like much of a punishment."

"Sit, boy!" Snape snarled. "Would you rather I have you skinning flobberworms?"

Harry looked like he wanted to say yes but he just sat down and began writing.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and Harry was diligently scrawling on the parchment. It took him a while to remember everything, and it's definitely not in alphabetical order, but instead something approximating it. He tried to do it in order but then he would remember one he had forgotten and had to write it out of order.

"Sir," he said.

Snape didn’t look up.

"Sir," he said again.

"What is it boy?" Snape asked. "Finished already?"

"No," Harry said, "I was just going to ask you for more parchment. I'm not done with the list. I can pay for more, if I'm using too much?"

Snape's face went red. "What do you mean 'pay for more'? Does _famous_ Harry Potter not think any of the rest of us can afford parchment? Let me see what you have written as I'm sure you've just wasted an entire scroll. Is that why you mean to pay for more parchment? You think you can bribe me so that you don't have to do any of the work? You can't buy your way out of this _boy._ "

Suddenly, Harry stood up, pushing his way back from the table. "Don't call me BOY!" he yelled and gathered up his bag and rushed from the room, slamming the door on the way out. Harry had had _enough_ of being called boy, and freak, and brat from his time at the Dursleys, and now by Snape. 

After Harry ran out of the room and Snape got up, about to run after him todemand he complete his detention, but his eyes caught on the scroll that Harry left on the table. He hesitated, caught between chasing him and the sudden desire to read what the brat had written.

 _I'll just have to give the brat another detention,_ Snape thought to himself, picking up the scroll and taking it to his desk. He read the scroll. It was poorly written, not quite alphabetized, and with many misspellings but Snape could see that the boy had some amount of knowledge. He turned over the scroll and saw that it only went down to "M" before stopping. Snape had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he dared not name for the fear of making it real.

He put his head in his hands. _This is Lily's boy, too._ Madam Pomfrey's words came back to him. _And I spit on her memory. But Potter could very well have been cheating,_ he reasoned. _I'll just have to make sure that this wasn't a fluke. Either way, Potter still has the rest of his detention to complete._

During the next potions class Snape had Harry doing the same potion as the rest of the class, as he promised Madam Pomfrey.

Harry went to take a seat at his desk but when he saw that the usual parchment with the day’s potion was absent he raised his hand. "Professor Snape?"

"What is it b- _Potter_?" Snape spat out.

"Why am I making a Child's Game potion?" he asked. "I thought you would—well I was hoping I might have the change—since I made a mistake last class I thought I could restart the antidote to Nimue's Breath?"

Granger spoke up, waving her hand in the air but she spoke as soon as it was up. "Professor! Why is Potter making the antidote to Nimue's Breath? What does Nimue's breath do? Potter should be making the same potions as the rest of the class."

Weasley piped up then, as well. "Yeah, Potter _should_ be making the same potions as the rest of us! You can't show favoritism!"

Snape turned to Granger and said, "Quiet down _girl._ This matter does not concern you."

"You can't speak to her like that!" Weasley yelled back at him.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for intruding on matters that _do not concern you,”_ Snape said before turning to Harry. “You will be making potions at your year level." Snape began parchments from a stack on his desk, starting with the one at the top of the pile. "You can thank _Madam Pomfrey_ for that decision. Also. detention tonight at eight," Snape said, not looking up. "Bring a quill."

"I—yes, sir," Harry said, voice small.

"Ha!" Weasley said. "Serves you right. Professors shouldn't be allowed to play favorites."

That night, Harry went to Snape's office early, showing up at 7:45.

"Don't think you'll earn favor from me by showing up early," Snape told him when he opened the door at eight. "You earned this detention and nothing you say or do is going to make me let you out early."

"I—I know sir," Harry said looking down, scuffing at the floor with his shoe. "And I wanted to...apologize for my behavior the other day. I shouldn't have left like that."

"You shouldn't have," Snape agreed. "Stop trying to weasel your way out of detention," he snapped.

"Sir I'm—I'm not I—" Harry stammered.

"Enough, b- _Potter,_ " Snape said. "For your detention you will finish what you started last time. Complete the list of potion ingredients and their uses."

"I—okay, sir," Harry said, a bit confused. He sat down and began writing the list, starting at "M". Towards the end of the hour he finished, squeezing in all the ones he forgot at the end, in his tiniest writing.

"What is this, Potter?" Snape asked.

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked. "This is the list of ingredients, like you wanted."

"I mean how did you learn all of these? Did you have an older student help you?”

"Of course not!" Harry said indignantly. "I _studied_. You know, _in the library._ "

"I know where the library is, _Potter_ ," Snape spat. "What I want to know is how you knew that I was going to ask you about potions ingredients you knew."

"I didn't, _Sir_ ," Harry said.

Snape got up from his desk and made his way in front of Harry, bracing his hands on the desk and looking Harry in the eyes. "Then _how did you know all of the potion ingredients?_ " Snape asked, his voice low.

"Because," Harry said, standing up abruptly. " _I love potions_." _No thanks to you,_ he didn’t say.

"You expect me to believe that James Potter's son _loves potions?_ " he asked incredulously.

"I don't expect you to believe anything," Harry said, shaking his head softly. "I can only tell you the truth. Whether you believe me is up to you."

"Out, Potter," Snape said, pointing at the door. Harry gathered up his things and left, head held high.

Snape took Harry’s parchment and sat back at his desk, putting his head in his hands. _What has this world come to? That Potter's son loves potions. What have I been doing?_ He wondered, feeling a bit sick. _What has been the point of this?_ Snape tried to read what Harry had written but he can barely take any of it in. Instead, he thought back to the past month.

 _It was to teach the boy humility,_ he told himself, but it didn’t sound true, not really. _It was to teach the boy that the world isn't going to cater to him,_ he tried, but that didn’t feel right either. _He's Potter's son,_ he tried, and that sounded more right. _He's Potter's son, so there's no way he actually likes potions._ No. That wasn’t right either.

 _He's Potter's son, so he's trying to cause trouble._ That wasn’t it, either. He rolled it over in his head a bit. _He's Potter's son so...I hate him._ Yes. That was it. But he already knew _that._ It wasn't some sort of revelation. Still, it felt incomplete, his train of thought. _I hate him because he deserves my hatred. All he ever does is cause trouble._ That should be right.

It _should_ be.

But...it wasn’t. Snape knew that it wasn’t. After all, when has the boy caused trouble? _When he made that potion explode._ Yes, that must be it. The little troublemaker, finally growing tired of doing his classwork made the potion explode. But that's not right, either. Not once had Harry made a mistake in his class, not until that day. Madam Pomphrey, she had reminded Snape that even _he_ had struggled with the potion when he’d first tried it.

Fine. He didn’t have to like the boy. Only...tolerate him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tania for betaing this chapter!

When he saw Harry next, during potions class, he didn't say anything. Instead, he waited until after class and then called Harry back. It's easy to do, Harry didn’t have friends, after all. 

He slipped Harry a piece of paper with the name of a book on it and his signature and told him. "Read this."

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, looking relieved. "I won't let you down, I swear."

Harry went to the library looking for the book but he couldn’t find it on the shelves. Finally, after half an hour of searching, we went to Madam Pince.

She pinched her face up a bit and said, “That book is in the Restricted Section. This has the professor's signature on it, so I can retrieve it for you.” She shook her head and went off to find the book, muttering under her breath, “What that man was thinking, allowing that book in the hands of a first year, I’ll never know.”

When she returned, she handed him the book, a third edition volume of  _ Mare. O and Tallow’s Guide to Medical Potions _ with the warning, “Exercise extreme caution with the potions in this book. They can have dire consequences, even when done properly.”

Harry nodded. “I will, I promise,” he said as he eagerly took the book and opened it to begin reading it immediately.

It took him a while to get through it. By the next potions class he was a third of the way through it. His glasses were shit and no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn't concentrate for long periods of time without the words swimming in front of him and giving him a headache. He’d also been skipping meals to read the book, because studying was more important than food. He had been able to go without at the Dursleys so he should be able to go without now.

“Potter,” Snape said sharply as Harry entered the potion’s classroom. “Today you will be paired with Mr. Goyle.  _ Do not _ let me see any mistakes in the potion.”

“I though—” but Snape glared at him, daring him to continue. “Yes, sir,” Harry said, resigned, he moved his stuff to the middle of the room where Goyle had set up his cauldron.

Harry usually sat in the back because he typically didn’t need to see the board. Snape would give him an individual assignment that was different from the rest of the class on a slip of paper. It was lucky, actually, that Snape gave him individual instructions because from the back of the room the letters on the board swam before his eyes.

He sat in the middle of the room and was still struggling to read the board. Luckily, he already knew how to make this potion. It was a hair growth potion, something he’d never made but was in one of the books he had access to at the Dursleys and thus one he had memorized.

He directed Goyle, telling him which ingredients to add and when. He took over the chopping and dicing, already proficient at it from his time preparing meals at the Dursleys.

When the mistake happened, it happened like this: He was crushing Still Beetle shells—he knew that crushing them was better than chopping them, as the instructions say to do—and Goyle added the eucalyptus leaves that Harry had sliced and set aside. Harry didn’t even have time to react before the potion exploded.

He got covered in thick sludge. It didn’t burn, not immediately, but it smelled awful and left his skin feeling like slime.

Snape vanished it as soon as he saw what happened, leaving Harry’s skin feeling tingly and when he looked down he could see that everywhere that the solution had contacted him had left his skin dry, a bit red, and still smelling awful.

“Detention, Potter, for a week” Snape said. 

“But sir! I didn’t—“ Harry stuttered out. 

“Silence! It starts tonight at eight. Don’t be late.”

“...yes, sir,” Harry said, meekly.

Harry gathered up his belongings and turned to Goyle. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Potter,” Goyle said with a small nod. “...thank you.”

“For what?” Harry asked, confused.

“For not treating me like an idiot. It was...nice,” he said the tips of his ears turning a bit red.

“You’re not an idiot,” Harry told him.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Goyle said, “but it’s kind of you to say so.” Harry went to say something to Goyle but he’d already left.

That night Harry showed up detention at eight on the dot. 

“Come in, Potter. Today you’ll be brewing Skelegrow. It’s the first potion in  _ Mare. O and Tallow’s Guide to Medical Potions _ and I expect that you to know how to brew it.”

Harry was relieved because he’d read the instructions for this potion once already and he was confident that he’d be able to brew it. It took him the whole two hours, but at the end of it he was satisfied with what he made. He bottled the concoction and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Snape examined it closely. “Adequate, Potter,” he said.

“You really think so?” Harry said brightly. “Thank you so much, sir.”

“Hm. Be back tomorrow at the same time. You’ll be brewing the Skin Stitching potion so make sure you have the recipe for that memorized.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, smiling.

He gathered up his books and bag but, before he left, Snape spoke up. “And Potter, I had better not catch you skipping meals again. If it happens again it’ll be another week's worth of detention.”

This went on for the whole week. Harry brewed potions at night and made sure not to skip meals. He brought his potions book to meals and read while he ate. For the first few days he sat alone, at the far end of the Slytherin table.

About half way through the week, though, he ran into Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy on his way to the Great Hall. He walked next to them, not talking. As he began to walk away from them, and towards his spot at the far end of the table, Goyle turned to him.

“Come, sit with us, Potter.”

Harry started. “What do you—are you sure?” he asked and turned to Malfoy with wide eyes. “Is that okay with—“

“Yes, Potter,” Malfoy interrupted. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“O—okay, Malfoy,” he said nervously. “I’ll just...yeah.” He took a seat next to Malfoy, across the table from Crabbe and Goyle.

All four of them sat down and Malfoy spared a glance towards Harry before launching into a story directed towards Crabbe and Goyle. Harry waited a minute before surreptitiously taking his potions book out of his bag and cracking it open. After all, Snape had told him that they were going to be making a nutritional potion.

The potion itself didn’t have any nutritional value but instead it made the body more able to gain nutrients from smaller amounts of food. It was mainly used for victims of starvation to prevent refeeding syndrome but Harry was hoping to hide some of it away for the upcoming summer at the Dursleys.

Harry had his potions book open and was mechanically putting food into his mouth when he heard Malfoy say, “Potter.”

“Hm?” he said, not looking up.

“This is the third time I’ve said your name. You should really get your nose out of...what is this?” he laughed. “A potions textbook?”

“Yeah?” Harry said. “It’s for my detention.”

“He has you making...” Draco grabbed the book and read, “nutritional potions? For detention?”

Harry went red and snatched the book back. “I’d appreciate it if you  _ minded your own business, _ ” Harry said sharply.

“What’d you get detention for anyway, Potter?” Draco asked.

Goyle spoke up. “It was because I made a potion explode.”

“It was both of our potion,” Harry argued. “It was both of our fault.”

“And you were the only one who got detention?” Malfoy asked. “That makes sense. After all, Severus does—” he stopped himself.

Harry furrowed his brow. “Severus?” he asked.

Malfoy went a bit pink. “He’s my godfather, I know him well.”

“Well what does Severus do that you don’t want me to know?”

Malfoy looked at Harry, to Crabbe and Goyle, and then back to Harry before waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not of import.”

“What is it, Malfoy?” Harry asked again.

“If you  _ must _ know,” Malfoy said, voice low, “it’s that he hates you.”

“I—I know that,” Harry said.

Malfoy looks aghast. “If you know that then why do you try so hard to impress him? You know that nothing you do will ever be enough for him. He’s like that, you know. Once he hates someone they can never again win his favor.”

Harry stood up abruptly, leaving his plate of food half eaten. “I just remembered,” he said. “I’ve got...a thing. In the library. I have to go.”

“Join us again sometime,” Malfoy said with a wave.

“Uh...okay,” Harry said, “sure.”

Harry could hear Crabbe as he left, saying, “You didn’t have to be quite so harsh, Draco.”

Harry did actually go to the library, but he didn’t do any reading. Instead, he thought about what Malfoy had said. He knew, already, that Snape hated him, on some level. It was sort of obvious? Harry was no stranger to hate, not after having lived at the Dursleys all his life. He remembered, though, a line from a book he read once, where a character said that their good favor, once lost, would be lost forever. But wasn’t the person who lost their good favor able to win it back once again?

That’s just what he would have to do. He’d prove Malfoy wrong, he’d prove his worth, and then maybe Professor Snape would like him. Even if not that, he’d have to acknowledge Harry’s abilities in potions. He would have to. Harry made up his mind. He would just have to do better, not make any mistakes. He would study even more and if he missed a few meals then so what? He could read while he ate, if he ate at all. So what if his other classes suffered? Potions was what he really cared about, in the end. Potions was all that mattered.

This was how he finished out the week. He studied during meals, doing other classwork at the last possible minute. He sat with Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy, but he didn’t say much. After all, there wasn’t much time for conversation between all the studying he had to do.

During his last detention, Snape presented him with a small satchel that he opened to reveal all the potions that Harry had made during detention. “These were all adequately made and I have no use for them. Do with them what you please.”

“I—thank you so much, sir!” Harry said excitedly.

“Do not  _ thank _ me Potter,” Snape said. “I would have disposed of them otherwise. It matters not to me what you do with them.”

Harry spent the rest of the evening glowing. Snape gave him potions! Now, he would have access to them at the Dursleys and that’s more princely of a gift then Snape would ever know.

The next evening, though, his good mood was soured. His detentions with Snape had ended and he now has no way of brewing more potions. He could set up a brewing station somewhere? An unused bathroom maybe? But that would be unhygienic. So, Harry came up with a plan. He would just have to find a way to get more detentions, however he could.

During the next potions class he put his plan into action. Instead of adding three shrivel figs to the blood replenishing potion he added four, and when it was time to add the willow bark he added the redwood bark that he had surreptitiously taken from the storeroom instead.

The explosion was small, contained. To Harry, that was.

He had purposely made it as small of an explosion as he could, but he hadn’t expected the explosion to be as hot as it was. When the scalding potion hit him he let out a choked out scream. And collapsed, the pain coming over him in waves.

He could hear commotion around him, could hear Snape’s voice. “You _ foolish boy,  _ what in Merlin's name were you thinking?”

Harry let out a garbled noise. “‘M sorry, p’fessor,” he choked out.

“Don’t speak,” Snape commanded. He vanished the potion but Harry could still feel the heat of it eating away at him. Snape summoned a potion and shoved it in front of Harry. “Drink.”

Harry gulped down the potion. It made his insides feel like ice and set him shivering. “Detention Potter, for a week. I had thought you were past this level of incompetence but I should have expected you to disappoint me. You truly are your father's son. He was known for causing trouble. I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you.”

Harry could feel wetness on his face but he hadn't been aware that he had begun crying.  _ A disappointment. That’s all I am now, _ he thought to himself.  _ At least I got detention. At least I can try to prove myself again. _

It was that evening and he couldn’t stop himself from shivering, still. When he entered Snape’s office, he had to try the doorknob a few times before his fingers could close around it properly.

“Come in, Potter,” Snape said. “And shut the door behind you.”

“Y-y-yes, s-sir,” Harry said, his teeth chattering.

Snape took a closer look at him. “Your lips are blue. The potion should have worn off by now. What did you do?” he asked suspiciously.

“I d-d-don’t know sir,” Harry said miserably. “I’m r-r-ready t-to brew.”

“Hm,” Snape said and waved his wand, casting a diagnostic spell. “It’s still in your system. Why did you not come to me or Madam Pomfrey?”

“B-b-because I thought that th-th-this was supposed to h-h-happen,” he said. “Y-y-you d-didn’t tell me w-what it was supposed t-to do,” Harry protested.

“Foolish boy,” Snape said and cast a warming charm. “If something is wrong you go to me or Madam Pomfrey.”

“I didn’t think—“ Harry began.

“Exactly. You didn’t think.” Snape interrupted.

“—that there was anything wrong,” he finished and then looked down, embarrassed.

“Hm,” Snape said, turning around and waving at the desk. “Your cauldron is at your desk. Today you will be making the...” he paused and looked like he was reconsidering what he was about to say. “Today you will be making the Hyperthermia potion. Its use is to combat hypothermia. Tomorrow you will be making the Hypothermia potion, which I administered to you today. These potions are dangerous, as when combating the symptoms of overheating you can easily induce hypothermia and vice versa if you are not careful.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry said. “How can I make sure not to do that?”

“You must account for the age, weight, temperature, and magical core size of the imbiber. There are spells that can allow you to tell all of these factors but should only be used but by healers as they can be extremely invasive. As you become more proficient in administering potions you will gain more competence in being able to tell these characteristics without diagnostic spells.”

Harry has been at the desk, diligently taking notes on what Snape was saying.

“What are you waiting for?” said Snape. “Begin brewing.”

So Harry did. He was still a bit cold but he can’t help but feel warmed by Snape taking the time to explain things, as well as by Snape having cast the warming charm— _ I'm doing it! _ he thought as he brewed, _ I'm getting him to like me! _

Harry continued sitting with Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy at meals but he also stayed pretty quiet, doing a lot of studying. After all, how else would he be able to finally win Professor Snape’s favor? At the end of this week, Snape again gave Harry the potions that he had brewed that week. Once again, Harry felt happy that he was getting all of these potions to bring to the Dursleys, but also very sad that the detentions were ending.

So he puts into motion the next part of his plan. He stops showing up to meals.

It took two days of this before Snape pulled him aside and told him that he had detention for another week. Harry felt satisfied despite the growing hunger that he feels, but he pushes that down. After all, it was worth it, wasn’t it? At least now, his hunger had a purpose. It was different if he had control over it. No one was forcing him to skip meals, it was his choice now.

When Harry arrived at his detention, though, there was no cauldron waiting for him. There was only a sandwich, parchment, quill, and a jar of ink. Harry stopped in the doorway.

“It’s food, since you have proven incapable of feeding yourself. After you eat you will be doing lines. It seems the prospect of detention has been too much of a reward for you to resist.”

“But—but sir,” Harry protested. “I’m not hungry! I want to brew potions.”

“This is not about what you want, Potter. You’re in no position to make demands of me. You will eat regardless of whether you are hungry and then you will write lines. _ I will not skip meals. _ You will write it until the message sinks in.”

“I—yes, sir,” Harry said, head down. He made his way over to the desk and took his seat. As hungry as he was the food tasted like ash in his mouth. He had to force himself to chew and swallow but could only make it halfway through the sandwich before he started feeling nauseous.

He put it down and began to write the lines. He got ten done before he glanced up and saw that Snape was standing right in front of him.

“What is this?” he asked and gestured to the half-eaten sandwich.

“I can’t eat anymore,” Harry admitted.

“You  _ will _ finish it, Potter. That’s not up for discussion. You didn’t eat dinner and I’ll not have you going hungry now.”

“I'm not even that hungry,” Harry promised. “I can go for a lot longer without food,” Harry assured him.

“I’m sure you have a lot of practice being sent to bed without dinner for misbehaving, but going for days without eating is something else entirely. I’ll not have you continue this—this _ hunger strike _ in order to get detentions. In the future, if you want to brew, just ask.”

“Thank you sir!” Harry said. He didn’t bother to correct Snape as to the nature of his experience with hunger. Instead he basked in the joy of being offered a chance to brew  _ whenever he wanted. _

He tried his best to choke down the rest of the sandwich, pushing down the nausea and the smile that threatened to break out on his face. It would do no good for him to throw up the first meal he had eaten in two days. He wrote his lines, his hand shaking slightly, but he got them written, in the end.

By the end of the hour he was tired and made his way back up to the dorm. There, Malfoy was waiting for him.

“Where have you been the last few days, Potter?” He asked. “I haven’t seen you at mealtimes and now you’re out past curfew?”

“I had detention with Professor Snape,” he said shortly, “and I’d like to go to sleep now.” Harry tried to push his way past Malfoy but Malfoy didn’t budge.

“And what of the missed meals? Where have you been?” Malfoy asked.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Harry lied.

“For two days?  _ That _ I don’t believe.”

Harry went a bit pink. “I was studying...charms,” he said.

“I’ve never seen you read any book besides a potions textbook. Try again.”

Harry went red and looked at the floor. “...I was trying to get detention,” he admitted.

“What?” Malfoy asked his eyebrows flying up in shock.

“Why in the world would you be trying to get detention? And why would you do so by skipping meals?”

“I brew potions in detention,” Harry explained, “and Professor Snape told me that if I skipped meals to study that he’d give me detention.”

“That’s idiotic, Potter, but it makes sense.”

“I didn’t get to brew this time,” Harry said miserably. “He had me doing  _ lines _ .”

“Serves you right,” Malfoy said. “It was a childish scheme. I’m glad he put an end to it.”

“...can I go to bed now?” Harry asked.

“Yes, of course,” Malfoy said, moving out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: _collapses because he hasn’t been eating_  
>  Harry: all according to keikaku
> 
> And because I just found this absolutely hilarious: from Liryian on the Harry Get Some Sleep discord—
> 
> [r/AmITheAsshole:  
> So, I (31M) am a schoolteacher, and have the child of my deceased school rival in my class (11M). The kid came to me asking for more advanced potions work, which I gave him, and eventually he said that he loves my subject. I have spent the first two months of term hating him and trying to get him to quit. Am I the asshole?]

**Author's Note:**

> Pharmakon means the poison, the cure, and the scapegoat. As potions represent a remedy to Harry in the form of an escape and something that he loves, it also utterly absorbs him, leading him to be extremely self-destructive in its pursuit. Harry is also Snape’s scapegoat: to Snape he represents all of Snape’s own failures.


End file.
